


Never Let Me Go

by jolly_utter



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Dubious Medical Practices, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Making out in the sick bay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 23:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21400285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolly_utter/pseuds/jolly_utter
Summary: “I told Sir John it was like a dream. But it was more like a nightmare, sir, if I’m honest.” Goodsir and Collins find comfort from each other after the dive in Episode 1.Written for Rarepair Week - Missing Moments Monday and the 'chattering teeth' square on my Terror Bingo.
Relationships: Henry Collins/Harry D. S. Goodsir
Comments: 22
Kudos: 60
Collections: The Terror Bingo (2019), The Terror Rarepair Week 2019





	Never Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this last night in a wine drunk blur, but I think it's decent and I wanted to do something with these guys for Rare Pair week, so I'm abandoning my usual perfectionist tendencies and posting it now.
> 
> Title is from the Florence & The Machine song.
> 
> _And the arms of the ocean are carrying me_  
And all this devotion was rushing over me  
And the questions I have for a sinner like me  
But the arms of the ocean deliver me...

“I told Sir John it was like a dream. But it was more like a nightmare, sir, if I’m honest.”

Henry Collins had been brought below, shivering and teeth chattering uncontrollably, to the sick bay. He was relieved to find that Doctor Goodsir was there, and not Doctor Stanley. Goodsir was cleaning his hands as he came in, but Collins was too preoccupied to see that he looked pensive and disturbed. All he knew was that Goodsir was kind, and might listen. Indeed, Goodsir was now bending his furrowed brow in his direction, having tucked a blanket about his shoulders and commenced checking vital signs.

“How so?” He gently pushed Collins’s hands aside where they clutched close to his chest, in order to press the stethoscope tube to his heart, ducking his ear to the other end. The beat was still too fast, as could be explained by the effort to pump blood through such a large chilled body. But it was steady, no sign of strain that could be observed.

“I thought- well, sir, I saw his body. Billy Orren’s. In the water, his arms spread, looming towards me. That’s when I panicked and hauled on the rope to be let up.” Collins was still shaking, curling in on himself. Goodsir had attributed it to the cold- God only knew how chilly were the icy waters surrounding the ships- but now he saw that there was an underlying current of panic as well. He paused his clinical examination to run his hands over Collins’s arms, endeavouring to work some warmth back into his shuddering limbs. It was terrible to see such an able, powerful man brought so low.

“The sea can present strange sights,” Goodsir said, in an attempt to distract and deflect. “Why, I have heard that the water itself can appear to glow, from thousands of small creatures within it. Imagine!”

“I know what I saw,” Collins said stubbornly. “I couldn’t save him and he was coming for me. I couldn’t save him and he’s still down there, reaching out—” he shuddered violently again. 

Goodsir had already given him a medicinal measure of brandy to steady and warm him following his ordeal, but it didn’t seem to be sufficient. Collins was clearly distressed, unwell on more of a mental level than a physical. Goodsir still stood close, observing his reactions, trying to gauge what else might be required. He might prescribe laudanum to dull the pain, or wine of cocoa. Still, neither seemed to be quite what was wanted. Against his medical judgement, but entirely prompted by his instincts as a kindly and empathetic man, he reached out and drew Collins into his arms. 

Collins would have been taller standing, but seated as he was on the table that had not long before held David Young’s corpse, he loomed head and shoulders above the surgeon. Nonetheless, he crumpled into Goodsir’s embrace as if it were the only thing on earth he could hold onto. Goodsir smoothed a hand across Collins’s broad back, feeling the texture of his thick jumper under his fingertips. Collins’s whiskers were prickling against his neck, and he couldn’t tell if it was just cold skin or the dampness of mucous or tears causing a chill as Collins buried his face closer.

Goodsir’s caretaking instincts were guiding him now, regardless of his natural reserve. He remembered what it was to have his younger brother come crying to him after some scrape, or a junior medical student in Edinburgh panicking about an upcoming exam. It only felt different because he had observed Collins’s sturdy frame over the past year and a half, admired his manly bearing and confident orders given on deck. It was merely strange to see one so seemingly self-reliant brought low and in need of comfort, he told himself- there was no other reason for his heart to beat sympathetically fast at the proximity.

Almost without thinking, he had found himself petting the other man’s hair, uttering soothing nonsense as he shifted closer between Collins’s broad thighs which had parted to accommodate him. The embrace was something different, now. Collins’s breathing had steadied, and he relaxed into Goodsir’s arms, encircling him in return. Goodsir, shaken by Young’s unsettling end and the autopsy he had been forced to perform, found himself shifting closer to find as much comfort as he gave, resting his cheek against Collins’s sturdy shoulder, and feeling large hands wrapping around his back, tracing soothing lines down his spine.

“What did you see?” Collins asked softly, a low rumble in his ear.

“There was no sign of scurvy,” Goodsir responded, not questioning whether Collins’s train of thought had followed his own. “Only natural causes, but his was the most unnatural death I have ever witnessed. He saw something—”

Goodsir pulled back, staring down to the end of the bed, trying to search out what had been David Young’s dying view. There was nothing there but the darkness and the wooden body of the ship, familiar and unchanged. 

“He said, ‘He wants us to leave,’” Goodsir continued, feeling deep in his chest the release of speaking this burden to someone else. “I don’t know who, or why, or—”

Now it was Collins’s hand soothing through his hair, a reassuring brush of lips at the side of his face as the other man spoke.

“I thought Billy was warning us off, too,” he said. “He was trying to tell us something and maybe if I’d stayed I could have helped, somehow….”

Goodsir tilted his head back to look Collins in the face.

“You did all you could. You shouldn’t have stayed in that water any longer than you did.”

Collins sniffed loudly and nodded.

“They’re free, at least,” Goodsir continued, “of whatever they were trying to warn us against. Billy and David, their souls are free while the rest of us must carry on. And for all its dangers, there is beauty in the place where their bodies will remain.”

It was strange, carrying on a conversation while standing so close, still with their arms about one another. Goodsir was just making his mind up to step away from this comfort and restore the bounds of propriety and normal doctor-patient relations, when Collins spoke again.

“I envy your ability to find wonder in this bleak place. It’s almost enough to give one hope. Tell me, Doctor, can you see beauty in me?”

It was a strange question, and from another man, it would have been vain, but Goodsir heard it as it was meant: a plea to be seen, and reassured. He knew the fear of the unknown dangers that haunted them all- the implacable ice, the many sudden and terrible deaths that could befall men here, the hint of a greater presence beyond their control, brooding over them.

“Yes.” He said firmly, bringing his hands around to cup Collins’s face gently. “I see a strong and capable man, who is kind and gentle in equal measure. I admire that very much. I have watched you haul about on ropes in a gale so it seemed you were keeping the ship secure single-handed, and I have seen you hold Fagin as though he were a delicate work of art instead of a hardened ship’s tabby.”

Collins dipped his head, the hint of a flush about his cheeks and a small pleased smile on his lips.

“You have a beautiful soul, Doctor,” he said.

It was such an unexpected compliment that Goodsir looked up in surprise, only to experience the even greater surprise of Collins ducking down to press a clumsy warm whiskery kiss to his mouth. Goodsir felt his breath leave him in a rush of shock as Collins pulled away, already making apologies, but Goodsir drew him back in. He had not known until it happened that this was what he had been chasing, the promise offered by Collins’s sturdy embrace. Their lips met again, more slowly and firmly this time, and Goodsir wanted it to go on forever. 

Collins gently maneuvered him back far enough to slide down from the table, so their bodies could press flush together. Goodsir moaned softly at the contact and Collins looked at him, eyes bright. He drew Goodsir’s glasses off his face and set them aside. Floundering for an appropriate comment and marvelling at the heat now palpable from the other man’s body, Goodsir said,

“Well, you certainly seem to have recovered your warmth!”

Collins shook his head with a mischievous smile.

“I’m still feeling very chilled, Doctor. I believe I shall require further medical attention.”

**Author's Note:**

> Until 1851 when the binaural stethoscope was invented, the tool consisted of a single tube used to amplify the sound of the heart. Thank you wikipedia.
> 
> And thank you lovely people for reading! Come find me on tumblr at @anadequatesir if you want to say hi!


End file.
